Mermaid's Venom
by ThomasPower
Summary: Continuation of their story from On Stranger Tides. This will not be very frequently updated; as I want to keep quality high.
1. Chapter 1

MAJOR SPOILERS for the end of POTC4: On Stranger Tides ahead. Don't read any further unless you've seen the movie, or don't care about being spoiled.

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Ok, that's enough spoiler space. This is for all of you who waited at the end for the credits to roll, hoping for a brief shot of Philip/Syrena and got…Angelica and her Voodoo Doll. :- (

**Chapter One**

The kiss was full of innocence, so completely unlike the others he had received in the past. No matter how deeply they explored each other, it felt pure.

As she pulled him into the water, he could feel the terrible pain in his stomach receding. _So there is some truth to the tales about a Mermaid's Kiss_.

Even when their hands began to stray, it continued to be pure instead of vulgar.

Suddenly, the kiss – that most beautiful kiss – was gone, replaced with a sensation of being pulled ever deeper. As the pressure increased, so did the pain from his wound. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find something to concentrate on to lessen his pain.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The noise puzzled him for a moment, and then he realized that each thump was synchronized with the powerful ripples he could feel passing through her body.

_Her tail. I'll listen to her tail. _

With each beat, the pain became more endurable. _I never realized until now how strong you were, my Syrena._ _Above, I was your protector. Below, you're mine._

Opening his eyes, Philip found that the two of them were passing through a darkened underwater cavern. A shimmering flash caught his eye and despite the perpetual gloom and his blurred vision, he could see that the floor of the cavern was littered with untold amounts of treasure.

_This must be where the mermaids keep all of their spoils from every ship that has had the unfortunate fate to anchor in Whitecap Bay_, he thought.

As the water warmed up ever so slightly and acquired the taste of seawater, Philip realized that she could have swum to freedom after being freed. Instead, she'd come back to save him.

That joyful realization was suddenly tempered as he felt a pressure in his chest, followed by a rising shortness of breath.

_The kiss must be wearing off_, he realized as his vision began to darken around the edges as he began to suffocate. Without a second thought, he began to squeeze her chest frantically in an attempt to get her attention.

After a few squeezes, she stopped in the water and twirled around to face him, a look of puzzlement on her face which quickly changed to concern as she realized what was happening.

Before she could reach out and once again give the gift of breath, he felt an odd noise in the water to their left. With a look of fear on her face, she rolled to face whatever was coming. Moments later, he felt a heavy weight slam into his side, followed by a shooting pain.

Gasping his last breath into the water in a cloud of bubbles, he blacked out.

Opening his eyes, Philip groaned in pain. Above him were rocks which he could see a little clearly, despite the fuzziness of his vision. That and the lack of wet coolness on his skin meant they were out of the water and in a cave somewhere.

Coughing, he tried to breathe. Pain shot through his body and he became aware of a wet stickiness on his back and chest. Another attempt to breathe guttered out in a gurgling choke.

Syrena's face filled his vision, a tear running down her right cheek.

He tried to comfort her, to tell her not to cry, but the best he could manage was a weak moan. He felt her hands tenderly caress his face followed by the lightness of her touch as she traced a path down to his chest with her fingers.

After several ethereal strokes there, she laid open the two halves of his vest, exposing his chest.

He noticed that she was now looking at him with something he couldn't quite place. Pain? Sadness? Loss? Anticipation? Or a mixture of them all?

Her lips pulled back, exposing her fangs which grew out to their full length in moments.

_Had her weakness in front of all of us been an act? An act intended to lure better prey than those pirates?_

He paused as he considered his thoughts.

_Or is it because I am about to die that she will feed on me, to use my body to continue her life?_

_Either way, I forgive her._

Moments later she struck, her fangs piercing the flesh above his heart.

He thought he had felt pain before. It was nothing like this. Waves of magma swept through his veins, the pain retaining a strange clarity that kept him from falling into oblivion like before. He could feel his heart thrashing away in his chest as his vision faded away to a white blur, then darkness.

* * *

><p>Syrena felt like her heart would tear in half as she felt Philip, <em>her<em> Philip scream and convulse under her.

_Forgive me for this, Philip. Forgive me for what I am doing._

Pushing against the rocks with her tail, she levered her lower form on top of him, using the weight of the powerful muscles contained within to hold him down so her task could be done in spite of his violent thrashing.

With each passing moment, his convulsions weakened until he lay still. Through her fangs, she could feel his pulse fading until it was almost imperceptible. Despite his falling pulse, she held on until she could no longer feel the flow of her Venom.

With a whimper, she unfastened herself from his breast, trying not to look at the four glistening puncture wounds which pulsed forth a combination of bright red blood and milky white venom with each beat of his heart.

A splash of water echoed through the cavern, causing her fangs to halt their abatement and grow once again.

_Another of my 'Sisters', come for him._

Tamara broke the surface of the water, anger boiling through her veins. First, the _Little One_ had to go and get netted by the men; and now Maytal was saying that the Little One had saved a man.

_Saved a man, of all things._

"What is this I hear from Maytal about a _man_, Little One?"

Syrena felt the scales on her lower half flush with heat as her rage rose. "Maytal tried to take him from me!" she shouted.

"As is her right! No man is to survive the waters of Whitecap Bay!"

A shudder ran through Syrena's tail as she recalled the myriad 'hunts' that had transpired over the years whenever a ship had anchored nearby.

"Why did you join our hunt that night, Little One? Certainly not for _pleasure_, as you've never felt the sting of a man's hand."

"I could feel him," replied Syrena. "He was terrified like the others, yet he also wanted to _protect_ us. Surely you felt him as well?"

"Of course," replied Tamara, a smirk on her lips. "Those are the best. Their fear is _exquisite_ as you pull them below, your tail coiling around them to _squeeze_ their last breath out."

"He saved me not once, but thrice ashore!"

"Little One, you are naïve in the ways of _men_. They do what must be done to gain your trust, and then they _seize_ what they desire."

"They bound me at the Pools of Sorrow to force my Tear from me," Syrena countered. "Once they had it, they abandoned me to die before the Sun. He had to be dragged away by the others as a captive for he would not abide by that cruelty."

"I would have perished like so many of our 'Sisters' if he had not freed me," she continued. "He freed me despite a grievous wound. He could have saved himself, but chose to save me instead. For that, I love him."

A dark chuckle rose from Tamara. "So you think you _love_ him. Or that _he_ loves _you_, Little One. I once thought that my Roberto loved me." Anger flashed through her eyes as she recalled what had happened long ago.

"Alas, my Roberto was from a noble family that had fallen into disrepute and hard times. His parents arranged a marriage with a noblewoman which would bring repair to the family finances."

"Unfortunately," she hissed. "I was with child and had become…inconvenient. None of the convents would take me as I was obviously no virgin, so that left only one choice in Roberto's mind. One night I received a secret letter inviting me to a day by the sea."

"Like you, _Little One_, I believed in _love_. I thought I could convince my Roberto that a marriage without love was one not worth having. I thought that our child was proof of my love for him. Do you know how he _repaid_ my love?"

"He waited until I was searching through the lunch he had brought, and then he struck. He dragged me by _my hair._ _My hair!_"

Tamara ran her right hand through her long tresses. "You want _love_? The last thing I remember was his face through the water as he drowned me." Anger burning, she smacked the water with her tail to rise above the surface as an exclamation point.

"_He drowned me!"_

As she rose above the water in fury, she caught a glimpse of the bleeding puncture wounds atop the man's breast. _"What have you done, Little One_?" she shouted, almost insensate with rage.

"My name is _Syrena_, not Little One!" Syrena cried as she hugged Philip closer. "He _named_ me, something you refused to do!"

"He loved you enough to name you," Tamara jeered. "Did you love him enough to tell him about the Venom, or did you just tell him about the Kiss?"

Anger flashed through Syrena's eyes. "There was no time! He could have been saved by the Kiss if Maytal hadn't interfered and wounded him so direly that none other than the Venom was left!"

"So you didn't tell him about the Venom." Tamara said disgustedly_. Such foolishness. Only she could be so naïve. _"How the Venom can turn love against itself? How if he lives, he might hate you like none other?"

"I would rather see him hate me forevermore than die."

At that last declaration, the water around Tamara roiled into foam. "You task me and I will have it no more!" she bellowed, rising from the froth. "Your departed dame protects you nevermore! Begone from this cove upon the following night's tide, whether he lives or dies!"

With that final verdict, Tamara dove, an angry fin-slap marking her exit.

Back on the ledge, Syrena collapsed next to Philip. She'd now lost two mothers and her shoal. All that was left was Philip. _Please God_, she thought, using the unfamiliar deity's name._ Let him live._

* * *

><p>Philip woke up with a gasp and blinked into the bright sunlight flooding into the grotto. The last thing he definitely remembered was Syrena eviscerating his breast, and then bizarre dreams upon dreams.<p>

The one he recollected in the most detail was the one in which his Syrena dragged him down to the briny deeps, ripping chunks of flesh from his extremities while he screamed a ceaseless line of bubbles...

_Syrena!_ Where was she? He tried to move his head to see more of the grotto he was in, but for some odd reason his body rebuffed his commands. It was most strange. He could feel the _presence _of his body, but it was muted weirdly.

Despite his disobedient body, he could still sense the company of another next to him. Syrena? There was only one way to be sure. Again, he tried to move his body and yet again it denied his commands. After several maddening minutes of trying, he finally managed to roll over.

As he turned over, it wasn't his body he felt, but a stranger's. There was none of the familiar sense of _being _that let an individual take a flight of stairs at a sprint with nary a glance downwards.

He found himself staring at Syrena's sleeping face, enclosed by her hair. While he waited for his mind and frame to work together again, he studied her.

Ever wary of his prize escaping, Blackbeard had detailed several men to guard them at any one time during the trek through the rainforest. Not a moment had passed without him feeling the vulgar leers of the buccaneers towards her.

Now that they were truly alone, he found himself taking in all the particulars he had only been able to glimpse before.

_The rectors were wrong; this is no foul beast seducing men to their doom. How could anything this innocent be capable of such evil?_

Concentrating, he reached out with a hand to brush her hair, moving stray elements away from her face so he could study her better.

After several strands had been moved, her eyes fluttered open at his touch.

"Philip," she said nervously. _Is his mind sound or has it been warped with hatred?_

"Thank you."

Joy exploded in her heart at that simple declaration. Pushing against the ledge with her tail, she rolled him onto his back, covering him with her form as she did so. A passionate kiss followed as she reconnoitered his mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile, she could feel his hands exploring the curve of her back, fingers meandering over the area where her smooth skin amalgamated into scales.

"Syrena," he said, breaking off the kiss and his explorations. _As much as I love you, we are meandering into territory meant only for Man and Wife._

"Will you come with me to Barbados? I was traveling there to become a priest when Blackbeard seized my ship."

He paused to prepare for what he said next. "There, we can be joined in matrimony."

At those words, she felt her body flush from head to fin with pleasant warmth. _He truly loves me, but how will I tell him?_

"Philip…I saved you," she said hesitantly, a sad look on her face. "But there was a price."

"What kind of price?" he asked with trepidation. _Please, don't let me lose her._

"Your soul is forevermore bound to the sea."

"In what way?" he inquired hopefully.

Wordlessly, she rolled off him and worked her torso beneath his. Then, using the muscles in her tail, she raised them both to a sitting position.

He blinked for several moments before he realized what lay on the ledge beneath them. Her reddish-gold tail, curled around _his_ own reddish-gold tail.

"Oh," was all he could say. _No wonder I feel so strange._

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

><p><strong>Writer's Note:<strong> I found that the name Tamara is derived from a Biblical name; so I decided to name all the other mermaids at Whitecap Cove after semi-modern Hebrew names to maintain name continuity.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, If you've gotten this far, spoilers aren't needed.

**Writing Tip:** Once you've finished up your chapter, put it on the "shelf" for a few days. Go back to it each day, and re-read it; trying to find flaws with it. The final product will be much improved for your efforts.

**Chapter Two**

Of all the strange events that Philip Swift had encountered during his missionary travels, from homicidal pirates to murderous mermaids, none had prepared him for becoming one of those hybrids. [0]

Now that he could see his lower half, his body felt less peculiar. As if the mere act of _seeing_ had helped the synapses and nerves firing blindly connect once more. He could feel the sensations slowly returning in his lower half.

Behind him, Syrena clung to him tensely. _He loves me, but can love survive this? He never asked to be Turned._

"When you said there would be a price, I feared it would be similar to the Dutchman's Curse." At that, he sighed. "I don't think I could have dealt with something like that – being away from you for so long."

He reached up to where her hands were resting on his shoulders and pulled them down over his chest, their hands coming to rest over his heart.

"You weren't the only one netted on that beach." As he said the words, he felt the tension in her arms drain away. "Finding a priest may be a bit harder, however."

Laughing, she began to stroke his chest from behind. "You're a priest, Philip. Why can't you marry us?"

"Couples can't marry themselves," he replied. "It has to be done by a third party and the marriage banns have to be read aloud in your home parish three Sundays in advance." [1] [2]

"Why?"

"There are those who would use the vows of marriage for their own personal gain," he said with sadness in his voice. "Proclaiming it to the world binds them far more than a simple statement made in private."

"Oh," she said. _So Tamara and the others were right in some ways. If the vows have to be proclaimed to all in order to hold you to your word, what does that say?_

"We can go ashore long enough to do what we must."

"Like how you gained feet during the march."

She shivered at that, remembering how excruciating it had been to lose her tail abruptly. "I have heard of other ways," she added. "Ways which are not as painful."

"You never showed any pain."

"A mermaid isn't supposed to show pain outside the shoal," Syrena said sadly, remembering her earliest lessons from Tamara. "There are those who would use it against you."

"The Fountain's gone. It's been destroyed."

At that statement, she sighed. "The Fountain was but one item that required a mermaid. There are others. Some even require a merman instead of a mermaid." she said sadly.

"Syrena, even if you had told me of those dangers, I would still have joined you."

Smiling, she held him tight.

* * *

><p>The sun had moved a good portion towards its noon-day peak when they disengaged from each other's arms.<p>

"As much as I'd like to hold you for the rest of the day, Philip; you have to learn how to swim."

"But I already know how to swim!"

Laughing, she pointed to his new tail. "Without those legs of yours!"

"But you did swim well for a landsman that night," she added.

"Oh. The night Blackbeard's crew tried to trap your…shoal?" he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.

She slid into the water fin first and turned to face him. "Yes. That night you were the only one who swam. The others thrashed like upside down crabs." _Which made them easy marks for my sisters._

"Sailors don't learn how to swim," he said sadly. "They feel that it's up to God or the Fates whether they live or die."

"But you knew."

"Yes," he said as he tried to maneuver his tail over the rocks, the unfamiliar length slowing him down. "My father had me taught after he performed the last rites for a child who drowned on a doggerboat."

"So your father was a priest, too?" _And you knew him._

"In Ireland. I did most of my growing up there, after Cornwall."

As he slid into the water, he gasped as the cool water touched his scales. The refreshment he felt was out of this world. It was like he'd been dying of thirst in a desert, and then having his thirst slaked with ice-cold water. _If that's how I feel after being out of the water for such a short time, the march must have been excruciating for her._

So total was his sense of relief that it and the unforeseen weight of his tail combined to drag him towards the bottom of the grotto, instead of floating on the surface like he'd intended.

Despite knowing that he was one of _them_ now, his inborn instincts and the experience of his twenty-four years on Earth said otherwise. _I'll drown. Get to the Surface! Get to the Surface!_ He tried to kick upwards, only to be rewarded with a sharp pain in his lower extremities as the muscles in his tail worked at cross purposes.

As he thrashed in the water, Syrena appeared with a smile and pulled him upwards to the surface, supporting both of them with flicks of her tail.

"Not like that," she said with amusement once they'd broken to the surface. "You're still thinking like you have legs. Swimming like a crab may work for landfolk, but it doesn't work for us. You can watch from the bottom while I show you."

She saw the look on his face and reached out to reassure him. "You don't have to be sorry. You carried me when you didn't have to. Now I can repay your favor."

* * *

><p>As they'd descended to the bottom again, he'd gotten the same internal messages as before: <em>You're in danger! Get to the surface before you drown!<em> But this time he'd been able to see her face, reminding him what he was now.

Despite that reinforcement, it had taken a conscious act to breathe in his first breath from the sea as he lay on the sandy grotto floor. The surprising thing was how _natural_ it felt after the first couple of breaths, once one got used to the thickness of the water and the strange feeling of water passing through slits along your tail following each 'breath'.

As he watched, Syrena began to dance. At first, she started out with simple movements, exaggerating the flicks of her tail as she showed how to float in the water or swim slowly. Following that, she moved onto the more advanced movements; arching her back in concert with arm movements and sideways tailfin motions to roll smoothly in the water or to flip over in a tail-length's distance.

As she danced, she recalled the other demonstrations she'd put on for her 'sisters'. Despite having to forage for food, the Shoal always had plenty of time on their hands in between ships. So they danced and sang to each other to perfect their skills.

During those presentations, she'd felt the familiar aches that followed strenuous exercise along with satisfaction following a particularly difficult move. But now she felt an unfamiliar feeling; a deep heat within her tail that threatened to envelope her.

_Is this how it feels when you do it for someone you love?_

Beneath her, Philip watched, mouth open in wonder as he took in every little detail – how her upper body's motions blended into those by her lower body, and the way her hair flowed with each motion.

Pushing off the sandy floor of the grotto, he rose upwards at first with hesitant flicks of his tail, then with increasingly fluid motions as he gained experience. Seeing him rising, Syrena quickly changed her dance to include him.

Circling around him, she swam lower and lower with each revolution, finishing the dance by tugging at his new fins impishly. She then swam up to meet his gaze, a demure smile on her face. As he smiled back, she took his hands into hers and led him out of the grotto and into the intricate network of underwater tunnels leading to the sea.

Holding him close, she directed him through the tunnels and corrected for his novice swimming with her tail. After several twists and turns in the tunnel system, they broke out into the rocky waters at the base of the cliffs surrounding Whitecap Bay.

Once they had passed into the deeper waters of the bay itself, she steered them onto a course for the surface; beating the water with powerful strokes. Philip grasped her intention almost immediately, adding his own strokes to hers.

They burst through the surface in a spray of foam before falling back with a mighty splash. As laughter ran through their throats together, Philip remembered how as a young boy, he'd played much the same game in Kinnagoe Bay; albeit via jumping _into_ the water, rather than _from_ it.

* * *

><p>The sun had passed its noon peak by the time they pulled themselves onto a rock outcropping to rest from their play.<p>

"That's the most fun I've had in a long time," Philip stated as he caressed her wet hair.

Dark laughter interrupted whatever Syrena was planning to say. About a dozen feet away, a dark skinned mermaid floated on the water's surface.

"Ophira." Syrena said.

"I see Tamara was right – you've saved yourself a delectable morsel."

"I have no patience for your trickery."

"Trickery?" Ophira said in a wounded tone before she began singing.

"_In Amsterdam, there lived a maid,  
>Mark you well what I say!<br>In Amsterdam, there lives a maid,  
>And this fair maid my trust betrayed."<em>

While the tune was catchy and Ophira had a nice singing voice, something was…off about it; he thought. Perhaps she wasn't hitting the right notes?

"_I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid.  
>A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in,<br>I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid." _[3]

He heard an almost insensate scream of rage followed by a wave of hate that he could _feel_.

Looking at Syrena from his perch, he saw that her delicate hands had been replaced with a pair of brutish claws and the soft skin on her arms was gone, replaced with rough scales.

Her beautiful face had turned all hard and angular, with the faintest sheen of iridescence on her skin. As he watched, she _hissed_ at Ophira, revealing her sharp fangs.

_Like the mermaids in Whitecap Bay_, he realized. _They dropped their facades of beauty when they were ready to strike._

He glanced at Ophira then back to Syrena._ She's going to try to protect me from the Song, but it's not affecting me. _It took but an instant to realize why._ I'm one of them now, so the Song has no effect. But I need to calm her down before she does something rash._

Sliding down to her, he pulled her close to him and began to sing the first song that came to his mind; one that he'd learned during his ill-fated voyage from Ireland to the Caribbean while she began to struggle in his grip.

"_Come all you seamen bold and draw near, and draw near,  
>Come all you seamen bold and draw near, and draw near."<em>

As he continued the shanty, she slowly stopped fighting his grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of claws reverting to delicate hands.

_It's of an admiral's fame,  
>O brave Benbow was his name,"<em>

_How he fought all on the main,  
>you shall hear, you shall hear. <em>[4]

Looking out to sea, he saw pure hatred in Ophira's eyes."So," she spat at Syrena. "You _finally_ feel the Bloodlust, but to _protect a man_. Not just any man, but a _Turned_ one. What's more, he _restrains_ you. You truly are your mother's child."

Turning to Philip, her eyes narrowed. "You may be immune to the Song, but perhaps _this_ might work."

Moments later, a seaweed whip erupted out of the water, striking a rock next to Syrena with a hard _crack!_

White hot rage flooded Philip's mind_. Kill! Kill! Kill!_ Shouted a voice in his mind, next to one that whispered in his ear; _Rip her throat out! Rend her carcass!_

Breathing heavily, he was about to leap into the water and do what the voices said when he felt the weight of the crucifix around his neck and _remembered_.

* * *

><p>The black flag with a skeleton spearing a heart flew from the mast of the ship that had come out of the storm like the Devil himself. As the crew cleared the decks and made ready for battle; Philip found himself surrounded by the other passengers.<p>

"A prayer, missionary!" they'd shouted, and so he had recited a passage close to his heart.

"Almighty God," he began. "We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we have most grievously committed against thy Divine Majesty, provoking thy wrath and indignation against us."

"We do earnestly repent and are heartily sorry for these misdoings. The burden of them is intolerable. Have mercy upon us, most merciful Father, for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake; forgive us our trespasses. To the honor and glory of thy Name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

He paused and looked out over the gathering before proceeding with the absolution.

"Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of his great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto him; Have mercy upon you; pardon and deliver you from all your sins; confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." [5]

Moments after he'd finished the prayer, the strange ship opened fire.

* * *

><p>Gripping his crucifix, he felt pinpricks of pain on his chest. He looked down to find that his hands had been replaced with claws. Hesitantly, he swirled his tongue around his mouth and found that his incisors were now fangs.<p>

_Forgive me, Lord; _he thought. _Forgive me for falling prey to these baser emotions once more. _He held her close as he squeezed his eyes shut and fought the demons in his head.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the Bay was now full of other mermaids. _Drawn to the singing like before. _As he beheld them, he saw that while one or two viewed him with undisguised lust, the others had nothing but hatred on their faces for him.

One of them swam closer to their outcropping, and Philip noticed that the mermaid in question was the one who had tried to drown Scrum on the jollyboat.

"I see that he survived the Venom." Tamara said. "That doesn't stop you from being banished with the night's tide, Little One."

"Banished?" asked Philip before Syrena could say anything.

"Yes, like her mother was," Tamara declared. "The only reason _you_ have not had your throat torn out, along with hers is because I greatly respected her mother; even after she lay with a _man_." At that last word, she hissed. "This protection only lasts until the moon's tide tonight. If you are foolish enough to stay past that tide, we will tear the flesh from your bodies mouthful by mouthful until you are begging for death."

* * *

><p>After that pronouncement, the mermaids had vanished as fast as they'd appeared, leaving the two of them alone on the rocks. Philip tried to comfort her, only to find her shying away from his touch. "What's wrong?" he asked.<p>

"How can you want to be near _something_ with so much hatred within?"

"Syrena," he pleaded. "Please don't say that."

"You _saw_ and _felt_ the bloodlust as well. How can you look at the one who imposed it upon you?"

"I've felt it before," he stated. "Not as overpowering, but just as intensely."

"How?" she asked, confusion evident in her face. _Humans can feel the bloodlust too?_

"Blackbeard."

* * *

><p>Blood and gore lay upon the decks of the <em>Good Intent<em> following the brief battle which had resulted in her seizure. From below decks, the pirates brought up the surviving crew and passengers.

"We're in for it," Philip heard one of the sailors mutter.

"Why's that?"

"We fought instead of striking the flag. Pirates don't like it when that happens. Cuts down on the _profit_, y'see."

"Profit?" Philip said blankly. _How does profit of all things figure into this?_

"Don't be daft, missionary. Think of the shot and powder spent, the spars and rigging destroyed and the dead crew on their side."

A bellow of anger split the air and everyone turned to look at the quarterdeck, where the Pirate captain stood.

"I am most displeased," Blackbeard shouted. "That you have so quickly forgotten who I am. The black flag must be _respected_."

Raising his sword, he motioned with it. As it had during the battle, the ship's rigging came to life, seizing the sailor who had been talking with Philip. Screaming, the man hung upside down in the air.

Turning his sword sideways, Blackbeard cocked an eyebrow as the man was torn apart, covering the mass of captives below with blood. "He paid for his foolishness, as will you all!"

* * *

><p>"At that, I stood before him and called him to task for his crimes; anger burning in my heart," Philip said. "He said something about clergymen and was about to strike me down when a woman – his daughter – came up and whispered into his ear."<p>

"He stared at me for a moment before he smiled and said; 'My daughter has taken a liking to you, priest; so you will be the survivor.' I asked him what he meant by that. 'Dead men tell no tales.' was his reply."

Philip paused to feel the crucifix around his neck for comfort and solace.

"What he meant by that was, if you kill everyone on a ship for revenge, then your brutality goes unremarked or unnoticed. So someone has to survive to tell the tale. I was to be that person for the _Good Intent_." [7]

"He made me watch as he butchered the survivors, each in increasingly more creative ways; until none was left but me. I burned with anger such as I had never known before. Yet at the same time, I had to hold out hope for his eternal soul."

"No matter how much I despised him; no matter how much I desired his death," Philip said as he continued to feel the crucifix. "This demanded that I forgive him and seek his salvation."

"Why?" she asked. "Why forgive such a person?"

"The Bible says; 'Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you'. It's what separates us from the beasts. A beast cannot forgive, but Man can."

As he said those words, she remembered the brief feeling of hatred and anger she'd felt as he impaled her right fin with a sword that night. That she'd expected from a man. What she hadn't expected was the feeling of sorrow and remorse as he stepped back after pulling the sword out.

"I understand," she said, pulling him close.

* * *

><p><strong>EDITORIAL NOTES:<strong>

[0] "Murderous Mermaids" would be a pretty catchy band name, don't you think?

[1] It appears that virtually all of the Protestant Churches essentially followed the Roman Catholic Church's position on Clandestine Marriages and the publication of Marriage Banns which was put forth during the Council of Trent (1545 - 1563); they just differed over what constituted an impediment to marriage.

[2] The Marriage Act of 1753 (POTC takes place around 1725-1740ish) codified into English common law the requirements for Marriage Banns and other safeguards which were already being used under the Church of England's Canon Laws.

[3] "Maid of Amsterdam" – Lyrics can be googled.

[4] "Admiral Benbow" – Lyrics can be googled.

[5] Semi-Adapted from the Anglican Prayer Book of 1622; specifically the section for prayers at sea.

[6] Yes, Blackbeard did capture a ship in 1717 named the _Good Intent_ out of Dublin.

[7] This is the darker, un-romanticized side of piracy. While some pirates – notably the historical Blackbeard (!) took pains to not kill hostages; other pirates were not as nice.


	3. Chapter 3

**SilentMusician202:** Philip speaks English as a native language; so that effectively makes him Anglican; given that Irish remained the majority tongue of Ireland until the 19th Century or so; when it was displaced by English. Don't worry; the Irish will get some pretty strong love the next chapter. ;)

**Shameless Commercial Plug:** It would be a disgrace to all Seto Mermaids if you don't watch _Seto no_ _Hanayome_ (瀬戸の花嫁) (aka _My Bride is a Mermaid!_) because "Honor among thieves is honor under the Seas" in English and "Written as Chivalry it is read as Mermaid" in Japanese, a play on ninkyō (chivalry) and ningyo (mermaid). This show caused a multi-day delay in this chapter after I found it on Hulu.

**Notice of Slowdown:** I've tried to get these chapters out on a 9-10~ day schedule; but I have a trip to Florida coming up to see the final Space Shuttle launch that begins on 5 July and ends on 12 July. I'll try to get a shorter 1,500~ or so word chapter out before I leave; but no promises :-\

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Philip felt a sense of loss as he watched her gaze out to sea. "It's all you've known, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied sadly. "I first swam these waters at birth, and all of my summers have been here; yet I can never again return."

"All your summers?" he said, realizing what that meant. "So your shoal doesn't live here year round."

"No. As the days shorten, the fish here grow too thin to support our shoal. So we journey north to Devil's Point Sound, where the waters still teem with fish. As the days lengthen, we return."

"If you follow the fish to eat, then what of the legends that say you feed on men and the threats by your brethren?" _What of the looks the other mermaids had for me? Does that mean I will hunt the fairer sex?_

"Legends are not always true," she replied with a wan smile. "But they have a kernel of truth within them. I wish I could tell you more, but we have until the night's tide to be far from here."

At this, Philip frowned. "It shouldn't be hard. We have _these_," he said with a motion towards their lower halves. "It should be easy to swim to another island."

"Banishment is never that simple. If you wish to live, you must swim several days beyond your shoal's holdings." She saw that he didn't quite understand yet and sighed. "Do you remember what I looked like from below when we were playing?"

"How you looked from below?" he said in confusion. "I remember the way you stood out against the sun from below…" He trailed off as he realized it. "A dark shape against the sun's rays." [1]

"Aye," she affirmed. "There are things in the sea which enjoy our flesh. When a shoal migrates, we rest at different times, so that there are always several dozen mermaids on watch against the creatures of the deep. Banishment forces you into unfamiliar waters without the protection of the shoal."

"I could watch while you slept," he offered before frowning. "No, that would never work. I couldn't stop a shark fast enough."

As he retreated into thought, she reached out to comfort him. _He always put me first, even during the march._

* * *

><p>"We stop here for water!" Blackbeard shouted after they'd passed a fast-running stream in the darkening light of sunset.<p>

In the middle of the column, Philip Swift sighed and looked down at his charge. She appeared to be paler than she'd been earlier that day. Worriedly, he pressed his cheek against her forehead and was shocked by the clamminess of it.

He'd thought he'd been sweating furiously during the march from the way his vest stuck to his skin, but when compared to her, he'd barely been sweating. Her shirt was completely soaked through in sweat, and her head lolled drunkenly.

It took him only a moment to realize the problem. _Of course!_ He thought. _She's a creature of the sea; not used to sun or air. She needs water._

Cradling her close, he set out for the stream he could hear ahead of him. As he neared it, he saw several pirates kneeling down to refresh their water bottles. Several looked up at his arrival; their puzzled gazes quickly changing to lecherous ones as they noticed his burden.

Wading into the center of the stream, he began to lower her to the water when a tremendous blow knocked them both onto the bank of the stream.

"The creature will not touch water!" shouted the quartermaster, sword in his hand, blunt edge facing outwards.

"She'll die!"

"I have no desire to leave matters to chance." A voice said from their left. "The one-legged man draws ever nearer." With that, Blackbeard stepped over Phillip and undid a leather flask from his belt.

Tossing it to the ground in front of Philip, Blackbeard smiled. "Your ration of water. The creature shall get no ration."

Reaching out, Philip grabbed the flask. Opening it, he splashed water over Syrena's face. Her eyes began to flutter as she slowly regained consciousness. Once her eyes were open and gazing out blankly, Philip brought the nipple of the flask to her mouth and squeezed.

He watched as she drank down the warm water like a fish out of water. _Which I suppose she is_, he noted wryly. Suddenly, a sword pierced the flask, letting the remainder of the precious fluid drain out.

Angrily, he turned and saw that Blackbeard had done the deed. "That's quite enough water for the creature, missionary." Blackbeard stated. "We only need a tear from it. A weakened creature will fulfill that purpose just as well as a vigorous one." [2]

Chuckling, the pirate leader disappeared into the darkening gloom of the jungle, leaving behind a furious Philip. Before his anger could go any further, a tug on his arm interrupted his thoughts.

Looking down, he saw Syrena smiling weakly. "Thank you for the water," she said. "And thank you for the name. Do you have one?"

"Philip," he replied. "Philip Swift." [3]

* * *

><p>"I have it!" Philip shouted. "The boats!"<p>

Seeing the confusion on her face, he elaborated further. "The jollyboats that Blackbeard's crew used that night to try and trap you and your shoal. Including the one I sat in."

"What about them?"

"They should still be there!" he said with glee on his face. "Nobody's going to risk life or limb in that cove to recover a trifling jollyboat or two."

Syrena wasn't quite sure what to make of this idea. _What good does a boat do for a mermaid?_

"We can tow the boat during times of slack wind," he explained. "At night, we can sleep inside, avoiding the creatures of the deep!"

A smile broke her face as she realized the brilliance of the scheme. "We won't need to stop during the trip to forage for food, because we can carry it with us!"

With grins on their faces, they leapt off the rock pile.

* * *

><p>As they traveled to the cove, they leapt over each other in clouds of spray. Their amusement lasted until they found the first body.<p>

It floated on the surface, a pair of seagulls pecking away at its bloated flesh. Shooing away the birds, Philip swam closer to inspect it. Turning his head, he saw Syrena floating off to his right, a sad look on her face.

_She's seen this before many times, no doubt._

The body was dressed not in the mixture of clothing styles preferred by pirates, but in the blue fineries of a Royal Navy officer. The eyes were gone, no doubt the work of the seagulls, but what unnerved him the most was how the man's throat had been torn out. It looked like a wild animal had done it, but the human-like teeth marks around the ragged cavity said otherwise.

"Your sisters."

"Yes."

As they swam closer to the cove, the bodies became more numerous, along with the amount of flotsam floating on the waves, until they couldn't swim a tail's length without bumping into one or the other.

The bodies all wore the uniform of His Majesty's Navy, from the highest officer to the lowliest seaman; adding to Philip's confusion. Then he remembered the proclamation he'd heard while in the Fountain.

"_Edward Teach! For crimes committed on the high seas, by the authority granted to me by His Majesty the King, with a goodly amount of satisfaction, I hereby place you in the custody of the court, and declare you to be my prisoner."_

"Pirate hunters," he said. "They must have arrived on the first day of the march."

"Just as my sisters' anger reached high tide over that night." She shuddered from head to tailfin. "None would have been spared."

* * *

><p>As they explored the cove, they found three longboats drawn up on the beach, along with one floating upside down next to all the other flotsam in the cove. Two of the beached longboats were painted in crisp colors and well maintained. The other beached boat was in poor condition and heavily weather-beaten, along with the capsized one offshore.<p>

"Stay here," Philip told her. "I'll go ashore since I know how to walk."

Swimming to the beach, he found it increasingly harder to make way as the water shallowed, until he lay on the wet sand of the beach, unable to go any further while the surf crashed over him. [4]

Grunting, he used his arms to slowly drag himself up the beach. After several minutes of exertion, he finally remembered his tail. Pushing against the sand with it, he thrashed his way uphill before collapsing in a trembling heap next to the closest boat. _My new body is definitely more of sea than land_.

He'd just about caught his breath when a great pain arose from his tail. Gasping, he cried out as he felt like thousands of glass shards were being driven into his flesh. Looking down through tear-soaked eyes, he watched as the scaly flesh of his tail quivered and then sloughed off, leaving in its wake a pair of bony legs.

He stared at his new (or old) legs for several more moments. _Already, they seem awkward and inflexible. Amazing how fast you can get used to something like a tail._

Twitching his toes, he was about to stand when he noticed that instead of being covered with dark hair, his legs were now smooth and hairless. In the back of his mind, something shook loose and he checked his arms and chest.

Like his legs, they were now as smooth as a baby's bottom. _Why hadn't I noticed that before? I guess it's one of the things you don't notice until you do. That's going to be a problem when we go ashore in the future._

Sighing, he stood up, wincing as daggers of pain shot through his legs. Along with the pain, a more familiar feeling returned – that of his privates swinging freely. _I feel naked without my tail already. _At that thought, he broke out in laughter.

Still chuckling, he inspected the boat next to him. Painted on the bow was the unknown ship's name – HMS _Providence_. Upon seeing the name, a great weight fell from his shoulders.

Even if he couldn't give all of these poor souls a Christian burial, he could make sure their souls were given a memorial mass. Their families could be notified through the Admiralty, rather than being left to wonder what had happened to their fathers, brothers, or sons.

As he continued to inspect the boat, he noticed it had a sailing rig stowed away neatly, along with a significant amount of canvas. _We can let the wind do our swimming for us while we lie under the canvas, protected from the sun. _[5]

Finding a coil of rope spread across the bottom of the boat, he pulled out several loops and walked over to the other _Providence_ boat, wincing at the pain shooting through his legs. _No wonder Syrena couldn't walk. I'm only managing it through experience._

The other boat was equipped like the first; the only difference being a slightly different sailing rig. Tying the two boats together, he returned to the first boat. Stepping into it, he began to deploy the sailing rig. _Better to do it now with legs on dry land, than try to do it at sea with a tail. _

It took some trial and error at first, but he soon had the rig almost ship-shape, drawing upon the knowledge he'd absorbed during his childhood at Kinnagoe, playing with fishermen's sons and going out to sea with them every so often.

A shout from the cove turned his head. Looking out, he saw Syrena floating in the water several dozen yards offshore, waving to him. He waved back and in return she lifted a large fish above her head. At that, he grinned. _It takes one to catch one, indeed._

Suddenly, he remembered something. "Wait!" he shouted. Pulling a lead weight from the bottom of the boat, he tied it to another coil of rope and pulled out several loops of line. "When I throw this into the water, catch it!"

When she shouted back in reply, he swung the rope around and let it fly. As it arched through the air, he suddenly realized that she could see his privates from where she was. The embarrassment of that moment triggered another revelation in Philip's mind.

When Syrena swam, the water exposed her chest for all to see. [6] He'd overlooked that in all of his excitement over his new body; but now he felt shame welling up within as he remembered the glimpses he'd received of her womanly parts.

_Lord,_ he prayed. _Forgive me for partaking of that which is reserved for marriage._

Pausing to take one last look at the beach for anything of use, he noticed a tail sticking out from under a pile of wreckage. Walking over, he saw the decomposing corpse of a mermaid under a pile of driftwood. Chunks of the tail had been torn out by the scavengers of the beach. Even in death, the mermaid's face was still hauntingly beautiful, as was her brilliant red hair.

Sighing, he said a prayer for the poor soul. _How many have died because of the fountain?_

* * *

><p>Getting the jollyboats into the water hadn't been that hard with the two of them working together.<p>

While Syrena pulled on the rope in the water, he pushed first one, then the other down the beach, being careful to keep his legs out of the surf until it came time to push the last boat into the water. Even as the surf crashed over his feet, he kept pushing on the boat.

At first, the surf had felt refreshingly cool, as if his legs had been badly sunburned. Then the changes began and he collapsed. Unlike the transformation to legs, the change to a tail was rather pleasurable, as if he was pulling on a pair of well-worn shoes. It started with a pleasant warmth suffusing his legs; and an urge to pull them together, which he did.

Looking down, he saw his legs fuse together into a central mass, from which red-gold scales and various other fins sprouted. His toes elongated and flattened out into the now-familiar translucent scythe of a mer.

By the time the third wave splashed over him, it was over. Reaching out, he hung to the side of the jollyboat and let Syrena pull him and the boat into deeper waters, rather than fight the surf. Letting go of the boat, he swam over to her.

"There's a mermaid on the beach with red hair," he said. "Dead, unfortunately."

"Neri. She was always so proud of her hair. It was brilliant red like none other; and all the others envied her for it." [7]

"I'm sorry."

"She's finally earned her rest, after fifty years."

"Fifty years? She's not a day over twenty!" _Will I age that way too? Will Syrena?_

"Time affects us differently." Syrena replied. "For those who were Turned in life like you; or those born into it like I, we age like landfolk, albeit slower. For those who were Turned through death; they age almost not at all."

"That's why you're different," Philip said with recognition. "You were born into this form, unlike the others."

"Yes," she said with a touch of pride. "I promise to tell you everything…"

"…but we don't have the time," he finished. "We only need a few more items from the _Providence_, such as a compass and clothing; then we shall be on our way."

* * *

><p>The <em>Providence<em> lay on the seabed in front of them; rigging fluttering in the currents. Around her lay heavier pieces of wreckage such as her nine pounder cannons. As the frigate rolled over, they had smashed through the gunports.

After a moment's pause to take in the strange sight, Philip swirled around to face Syrena, carefully avoiding her chest with his gaze. With a thin expression on his face, he squeezed her shoulder gently to both comfort her and gain her attention.

Pointing towards the stern of the wreck; he motioned with his head and soon they were off. As they closed with the wreck, details which had been hazy in the distance became clear. All along the lower hull were hundreds of marks, each one showing freshly exposed wood.

Swimming along the hull, Philip placed his hand over a grouping of marks. They lined up almost perfectly with his fingers, causing him to shudder. _Even a frigate was no match for their anger and hatred._

At the stern, he found Syrena opening at a window. Squeezing in through the narrow opening, they found themselves inside the Captain's Quarters of the _Providence_.

The first thing he noticed was the apples. Scores of them lay on the deck, spilling forth from crates which had broken open during the sinking. _The Captain certainly loved his apples._

Shaking his head, he joined Syrena in searching the room. What struck him the most about the room other than the apples was how bereft it was of any form of personal effects or memorabilia. Bare wood covered the walls and the furniture contained only that which was related to the ship's operation.

Several more minutes passed as they searched the wreckage of the Quarters, everything having shifted about rather haphazardly as the ship sank. The Captain's desk, among other things now lay on its side against a wall.

Searching the desk proved to be quite troublesome. Many of the drawers had become hopelessly jammed. Grasping a handle, he pulled. No result. Scowling, he tried again with the same result.

Over at the other end of the Cabin, Syrena noticed the problem Philip was having and swam over. With a smile on her face, she placed her hands over his while she pressed her tail against the desk. She then pushed back with her lower body.

As the drawer slowly slid free, Philip realized what he'd been doing wrong. He'd been pulling against the drawer as if he was still on dry land, expecting his weight to provide the leverage he needed. Underwater, you had to actively provide that leverage, even for mundane tasks.

A small wooden box was all that the drawer held. Opening it revealed a compass within. Instinctively, he reached out to place the compass into a pocket; only for his hand to find empty water. _Strange how you never miss pockets until you really need them_.

Exhaling water through his gills in an underwater sigh, he placed the compass back into the box and swam to the center of the room. As he placed the box on the deck, he noticed several crevices along a wall. Further investigation revealed that this was the chart rack where the ship's charts were held.

Pulling each chart out carefully and unrolling them [8], he checked for any sign of Whitecap Bay. It wasn't until the fifteenth chart that he found what he was looking for. The lettering was beginning to smudge, but it was still legible.

_Now all we need is clothing_. Spinning around, he saw that Syrena was already ahead of him. She'd found the chests for the Captain's personal clothes. Swimming up, he looked over her shoulder and saw that the chest was full of crisp uniform items. Even with the muted colors of underwater, the gold frills and white lace embroidery shone brightly.

_Strange_, he thought. _There's no everyday clothing. Not even a battered oilskin to wear during storms at sea._ [9] After Syrena began to pull out the fifth uniform in a row, he shook her arm and held up his hand to signify 'no'.

Taking the four sets of uniforms she'd pulled out, he placed them next to the chart and compass. Swimming back, he signaled towards the door at the other end of the cabin which opened onto the main deck of the _Providence_.

Opening the door, they were greeted by a drowned sailor entangled in ropes. Unlike the other corpses they'd seen, the only marks upon him were a pair of peculiar puncture wounds on his wrist. Beyond the corpse, they could see a tangled mass of rope and rigging that lay across the main deck, making it all but unswimmable.

_Even if we can't drown; we could get tangled up in the rigging, and we'd lose time cutting ourselves free_, thought Philip. _Also, if that poor fellow is any indication, then the main deck will be full of corpses still in their hammocks._

He shuddered at that thought. _No, we've seen enough._

* * *

><p>The sun had sunk well towards the horizon and the sky was beginning to redden when they set sail. It hadn't taken that long to load their meager possessions into the lead jollyboat; but Syrena had insisted on gathering as much food as possible, from fish to seaweed.<p>

Laying back, Philip twisted his tail around until it was in a more comfortable position in the boat. With his right hand on the tiller, he could feel the boat biting into the water as the sails caught the wind.

With these strong winds, they'd easily be far from Whitecap by the time the moon rose. If their luck held and the winds continued to blow southeasterly, the Bahamas were only a few days' sail ahead.

* * *

><p><strong>EDITORIAL NOTES:<strong>

[1] Sharks cruise pretty deep; and a lot of attacks on surfers are thought to be because the silhouette of a surfer paddling on their board mimics that of pinnipeds (seals/otters/etc). So what happens when they see a silhouette that combines cetacean characteristics with pinniped characteristics?

[2] I always felt that Syrena was already pretty out of it when she was put in the pool and tied up. Otherwise, she could have escaped or inflicted serious hurt once she touched the water.

[3] Someone on the IMDB message boards for POTC4 noticed that the relationship between Philip and Syrena was closer than what was shown on the screen. They pointed out that Philip is only called by that name once in the film – at the end by Syrena. Everyone else called him 'the priest' or 'the missionary'. This shows they got close enough to exchange names. This is my attempt at showing one such un-shown moment in their relationship.

There's also one other line that Syrena says – after she's tied up at the pool, she says to Blackbeard "All die, even you. Soon, I hear." So how'd she find out about the prophecy?

[4] I can speak from experience after an early morning swim on a New Jersey beach about 15 years ago. I spent almost ten minutes trying to swim ashore in the surf, and just as I was about to give up, I put my feet down, found that the water wasn't _that_ deep; and rather sheepishly walked ashore.

[5] You can undertake surprisingly long voyages in a jolly boat – for example, Captain Bligh sailed 3,500 nautical miles in the _Bounty's_ jollyboat after the famed mutiny.

[6] In order for Disney to get the PG-13 rating they were aiming for _Splash_ back in 1984, they had to put tan-colored makeup onto Daryl Hannah's breasts and glue her hair onto her nipples for the underwater scenes.

[7] In the era of POTC, Red or blond hair is going to be very noticeable – since synthetic hair dyes are not yet available (and natural dyes will not be cheap enough to be affordable by the commoner).

[8] Paper in the 1700s was still made out of rags. It wasn't until the 1840s that wood pulp began to be used. Rag paper lasts longer and doesn't come apart as easily in water as wood paper.

[9] The more I think about it, the more that Barbossa was clearly enjoying himself in OST. I wonder if he got his fine uniforms at credit in London, promising to pay the debt off upon returning from his voyage :D


End file.
